One of my favorite movies now that Argo the character is dead.

in the middle of Silver Spring there is a large seating area outside the Discovery Center. 
I finish my shopping, and went to sit down for a few minutes. There was a table full of black people next to me-unimportant because of their color, just trying to give you an accurate picture.

It didn’t take me very long to figure out that they were homeless, and my brain lit up. Ask them what they need.

Apparently, Silver Spring only has a homeless shelter in the winter. From April until November, everyone sleeps outside. They also said that there are no beds, there are just mats on the floor. Also, space is so limited that many people die of exposure. It is amazing what you can learn with some real intel. 35 minutes at a table full of homeless people, and already my brain is working like a machine. There is no all season homeless shelter in Silver Spring, and if I were to build one, people I know would use it.

you’ll have to wait a little longer for a full entry….. my laptop is dead and I left the charger at home.

#dumbassattack

Apparently I have moved in with a large Middle Eastern family, and I couldn’t be happier. Here’s why…. Hayat was born and raised in Lebanon, therefore, she is the goddess of the house when it comes to Lebanese food. Dom is an executive chef that works for one of Jose Andres’ restaurants. We shot the shit immediately. He went to Tapalaya and ate Anh Lu’s food. Not while I was working there, but still. It counts. 🙂

We have five dogs, but it’s a multi-family home so they’re not crowding us out. One of the dogs is a tiny Pom that looks like a Tribble. I wanted a house with a dog, and I have one for each weekday. Because sometimes you need a Lab. I do. I like to hike. I am not carrying a little Pommie bitch all over creation. But then again, given that I have often said that I am a rat dog personality, perhaps it is me that is the little Pommie bitch. Time will tell. I felt like a little Pommie bitch today when I accidentally got on the blue line and rode out to Braddock and turned around. I called Dana immediately to tell her that the first time I got on the Metro, I went the wrong way, because Dana appreciates things like this. I also told her that I was B19 boarding this morning, because that type shit makes her weirdly happy.

I met a woman on the Metro that was in town for an anesthesiology conference, and we hit it off immediately in a friend-type way. I told her that I would rather tell people I was a serial killer than a doctor on a train or plane just because with serial killer, there are generally very few follow up questions (Do you get dental with that?). When you say you’re a doctor, people start showing you stuff.

Ew.

So she does the classic doctor thing and says, “Doctor, it hurts when I do that!” and bends her finger. “Well,” we said together in unison, same tone of voice, “DON’T DO THAT.” We both dissolved into giggles and I could tell that she really wanted to invite me for drinks in that “you’re my new best friend and my daughter can’t pick me up for a couple of hours” kind of way. It was nice to make a connection on the train to my new house, because in that moment everything came together and I realized that I could rest and relax. I was home. However, I did not go for drinks with said doctor, because I was really bagged and just wanted to get home. Hayat came to pick me up at Silver Spring Station, and I looked all over as we drove home. Guys, it looks like Portland up in this bitch.

No, SERIOUSLY.

I laughed to Hayat that I’d only been here for a half hour and already I’m like, “the Maryland side is BETTER.” Plus, there’s a Washington Redskins coffee table next to my bed that would make Dana have an aneurysm.

It’s only 7:00, but I did not sleep well last night. I only got a couple hours because I was so excited. I was such a zombie that my dad is going to Fedex my glasses………….

That’s all you get for today. It’s the teaser trailer. I gotta check this mother out before you get any more.

Arriving at 3:30 at DCA, then hopping the Metro either home or to Afterwords, depending on how I feel. I may go home just to dump my stuff, but I don’t know yet since I’m just bringing a suitcase and a backpack. What I do know is that my house is beautiful, inside the Beltway on the Maryland side, 11mi as the crow flies from the White House, and the family I live with has gatherings every 2-3 weeks where everyone is invited.

It is so amazing to be this blessed at once.

Dana has agreed to help my dad finish the house so I can get out of town faster, which is just superhuman of her, and one of the reasons I love her so much. Even though we’re divorced, she’s still nice to me. Not many people get that kind of friendship after a divorce, and I am so happy to say that I did. As we said to each other yesterday, we may not ever be a couple again, but there will always be an us. Dana has also said that she hasn’t been as eager to get back together as I have, but that some of the messages that we have something worth working on have stuck in the back of her brain. I told her that was enough for me. We both need time to explore the planet on our own, but just the fact that I am not leaving her with a basket of regrets and she does remember good things lets me rest. It wasn’t all bad.

I got a little tipsy celebrating with Dana and told her sister that I loved her. I do not remember doing this, and because it was a memory Dana had and not me, I crouched on the floor and just cried. Mostly because I have been tripping over my own feet emotionally for a long time, and I was terrified that I’d sad something horrible. I didn’t. I also handed the phone back before I heard her say “I love you, too.” But Dana told me she said it. I asked her to tell Steffi for me that it was one of the most healing moments I’ve had in months. And, of course, when Dana said that I talked to her sister and told her I loved her, she waited until the very very last moment to say Stephanie said she loved me, too. So, I’m like hunched over in “no, God…. please…. no…..” mode when Dana reassures me that all is well and I said, “you might want to have led with that.”

Still looking for a place in DC because the other two were gone by the time I was ready to plunk down money. Craig’s List makes it so easy to search for shared housing, though, so new places are imminent. I love how you can just go to the web site and type in the neighborhood I want. I don’t want to be further out than Alexandria, because I don’t want to drive anywhere. I have found several places in SW Waterfront and Dupont I want to look at, because I won’t have to buy gas. I’m also looking at Anacostia/Bolling AFB area because A) It’s cheaper 2) That is the neighborhood where I really want to live. The idea for St. James was conceived by thinking how a church design would lead down into the river for those that wanted to be baptized that way. In order to get to know the neighborhood well enough to start a church, it might behoove me to live there. Plus, I don’t want to be too far from Dupont, because that’s where my favorite restaurants are, especially the ones where a woman might be likely to come up to me and say she saw me reading a book.

God, I am so adorable when I’m reading. It’s only when I start talking that there’s a problem. 🙂

Everything is coming together like a puzzle. The corners are done as I reach toward the middle. Dana is already coming to town in June, so we will not be apart for very long before we get to see each other again and check in. I want to show her “my DC,” and I will take her for every spare moment she’s got between her family and friends that already live there. If they’re available, I would like her to meet Ruth & Brian, because I think she would like them and it’s a not so subtle hint to try and get her roped in up here………….. #prayingonthespaces

I know you’ll read this eventually, honey……. I have the best of intentions. Somehow I don’t think trying to get you to move closer to your parents and me is that much of a bad plan. 🙂 Even though I might have a new girlfriend/wife by the time you move, that doesn’t mean that I won’t explain to her that I left half my brain in Houston and she needs to love you for all that you are, too. I never want you to go away. It’s in the standard best friend contract, which we signed almost 12 years ago. That’s Addendum A, in case you’re wondering.

Back to you, Bob. Let’s go to the phones.

I would be lying my ass off if I didn’t say I hoped Argo would finally come around, but to say that she’s the reason I’m moving is a superhuman, Elastigirl stretch. I lived perfectly happily in DC without her for almost two years, and that hasn’t changed. I have told her that the world will explode with our agreement and nothing less. I have to thank her for giving me my space. That I’ve been able to process an enormous amount of shit so that I could move on by going back and reading what I’ve thought over the years. I told Dana today that I couldn’t in good conscience reach out to her, because I’d already irritated the hell out of her long enough. It is not worth my time to invest in a relationship that was so amazing in the beginning and devolved so that instead of being a loving friendship, it was gutter-sniping all around. Two first children with the quirks to match. However, I think that would go away if we could actually have a conversation. Or, it might not. Ultimately, that is her call. I imagine a great scene of bumping into each other accidentally and not quite recognizing where we know that face from, but it sort of looks fam……… OH MY GOD.

Because I like this girl, it will be on the one day I run out to the grocery store in my pajamas and bedhead. Because of course it will be. Either that, or she’ll walk up to me in a restaurant and my face will be so full of food I can’t talk, because that’s always attractive. It’s not Argo’s siren that calls to me, it’s the life I led while I was there. I felt more like myself walking around alone in DC than I ever had before.

I also realized another reason why I cannot stay here, and it has bothered me since I was 15. Because there was no clear message on Diane’s part that we were never going to be together until AFTER she’d already let me read her journal, I have these sentimental feelings about Houston that have become very creepy over time and they scare the hell out of me. Like, I almost didn’t go to my first therapy appointment when I got here because her office was six blocks from Diane’s old house.

Argo has changed my perspective on Diane, because listening to me gave her a chance to help heal me after a long and arduous (argoous?) emotional journey. She’s one of the people that rushed in when I was so sick two years ago, because I was just starting to vomit up emotions I hadn’t felt in eons.

But because my memories of Diane here are no longer happy for me, they torture me in a way that I just don’t want anymore.

I took a break from writing this and found a place in Silver Spring, all bills paid for $795. I’m flying out on Tuesday, I believe, because my roommate said that was better for her. However, if it’s cheaper to fly on Mondays, just come on.

The line that got her was “I’m thinking of starting a homeless ministry in Anacostia.” The line that got me was “we have a huge screen porch where you can do your writing.”

My dad and I were sitting in a diner when he said, “DC is your Paris. You know I would take off for Paris at a moment’s notice.” It’s been that way since I was eight. I have literally been in love with the city for almost 30 years, and I’ve gotten to visit many times, and lived there for 18 months when I was married to Kathleen and she got into ExxonMobil’s Global Information Systems department and they asked us whether we wanted to remain in Houston or go to their Fairfax, VA office. I am positive that I talked Kathleen into it, this whole moving to DC thing, but it was something I had to do. I needed to get out of Texas, and why wouldn’t I go somewhere I’d wanted to be since my mother handed me a copy of “Ramona Quimby, Age 8” and said, “you can’t read it until we’re ON THE PLANE.” My excitement was immediately engaged, because the flight was so special I got to have a special book to read ON IT.

So the love affair with DC has nothing to do with friends; in fact, I would be happy sharing a small apartment and riding the Metro everywhere- kind of a silent observer to the beauty DC has to offer when you’re really looking for it. The drive from the Pentagon in is breathtaking, and even when I lived there, I still got tears in the corner of my eyes as I passed the Jefferson Monument, even though I drove past every week for church. Because I’m an Episcopalian now, I feel a responsibility to at least go to St. Paul’s K Street once, but Ruth and Brian, the co-pastors of my church, had my heart when the first time I came to church, they said, “this is kind of an unusual Sunday- we’re having a potluck during morning worship. We’re using coffee and muffins for communion. Is that okay?”

I’m sorry. Did you say COFFEE at COMMUNION?

Thank you, Jesus. Coffee has always been a life-giving substance for me, and it made Ruth laugh……

I have told this story before, but it is apt here. Kathleen and I were in a bookstore in Dupont called “Lambda Rising,” and I was looking at the spirituality section. I found this book on More Light (the presbyterian reconciling ministry), profiling some of the ministers involved. I knew Janie Spahr. I knew Katie Morrison. And on page 45 (I think), there was a picture of Susan Leo standing at the front of the sanctuary giving the benediction.

Susan. Home. “KATHLEEN!!!!!! WE HAVE TO GO TO THIS CHURCH!!!!!!!”

I was in the choir. Kathleen learned how to make stained glass. During one of Kathleen’s stained glass classes, me and the PK (Roman, then 5) went to the store and picked up a few things. I just let him chatter about anything and everything in his PK world. I am sure that Roman would not remember me, and I would not recognize him, because that was in 2002. I think he’s taller now. But the feeling of home remains. I literally helped put in the tile floor, and the memory still makes my bones ache… because it wasn’t just a tile floor. It’s a labryinth for pilgrims on their way. Standing in the middle of it is glorious.

And now, I have no strings tying me to anywhere except the thread that runs through DC and me. My favorite memories in DC are alone. For instance, sitting on the banks of the Potomac on the Alexandria side and just people-watching with my journal for a couple of hours. Sitting on the mall, watching dogs go by and hoping that famous people own them. Walking through Air and Space with nothing but awe. Accidentally driving into the ghetto late at night and seeing a drug deal go down in front of Frederick Douglass’s house….. because if you get lost in Anacostia, the only roads lead back into Anacostia. I think I ended up in front of the Pepsi plant in MD before I realized that I had just crossed the Anacostia and not the Potomac, and I still didn’t know where I was.

See? This time will be different. I have a personal assistant. Siri would never have let that happen to me.

This time.

I am moving back this week. THIS WEEK. I have a ridiculously cool choice of places to live, both $525 in Arlington, which is unreal. I don’t have a job, but I don’t care. At $525 a month, I can support myself by waiting tables or working at a grocery store as easily as I can here. But at the end of my shift, I am a few blocks from the Metro with tablet and bluetooth keyboard in hand.

I am hoping my writing takes off regarding DC…. and not “takes off” in terms of response. Donors have poured out their hearts and it is something for which I can never repay or forget. Those donations make me feel like a real writer…. that my words matter. But my writing taking off is about me. I want new subjects mixed with old ones….. new context to add to what I already know about the city.

Even my dad asked the Argo question. “Is this going to be a thing with Argo?” Let me explain how I handled that. “I love DC on my own. I am easy to find. Reach out if YOU want.” I said more than that, because why use three words when three million will do, but that is the gist. Stop being a burger-flippin’ ho and get on board, because even if you lived across the street, I wouldn’t notice if I had my headphones in. No, seriously.

I also told her that I go to Afterwords on Tuesdays, a date that I’m hoping to keep, because it was absolutely calming to have what Howard Schultz calls your “third place.” You’ve got home and work. For some people, that third place is a bar. For me, it’s Afterwords, a cafe next to a bookstore that looks like a micro-Powell’s. I also love Teaism, where for the first time I had ochazuke, soup brewed with Japanese green tea, and lapsang souchang, a tea that you should only order if you like your tea to taste like they put cigarette butts right in the blend. It sounded interesting at the time…………….

I also really love the HRC store, because they have some really cute preppy clothes with the logo on them. I can just see me in my little blue and yellow polo……

Do you see all the ellipses? This is the part where I’m dreaming. I have so many hopes and wants in returning, but only one of them is truly important. Why did I leave DC in the first place? Why did I leave my dream city when the dream changed, but did not die? Why was I too scared to continue on there without Kathleen? I am hoping it was only because I was young and stupid and didn’t know what else to do. Now I know that I need DC for me, and there isn’t anyone on earth that could convince me otherwise. I have a real life there, and one that was worth supporting instead of just running away.

Because when my dad asked me if I really wanted to remain in Houston, the best I could do was “I like the people here, but I could take it or leave it.” It was such a ringing endorsement that I’m glad I was sitting down. I had to deal with the fact that I don’t like Houston in front of someone who lives here, and didn’t want to make it seem like I was ungrateful for a thing. But at the same time, I cannot ignore that although I live here, my heart beats for both Portland and DC, because they’re MY PLACES.

Just like my dad has his.

Amen.

This morning when I woke up, I reveled in 2004. That is the year Dana and I became friends. We’d hung out a few times, but not in a serious, I will go to Walgreen’s in the middle of the night for you sort of way. What brought us together was the all-church camping trip at Mt. St. Helen’s. I didn’t have any equipment, and Dana had a ton. We ended up spending the entire weekend together and I realized that I liked her more than I initially thought. The loud obnoxious blonde woman had some redeeming qualities if you got her alone once in a while…… that’s when the obnoxious stopped and the sweet, strong, silent began.

I thought of that trip this morning because I woke up at Dana’s, on her couch because now that she has one, spending the night isn’t weird anymore. It is amazing how much one piece of furniture calmed my nerves almost instantaneously, because our friend rhythm is back in place. I don’t have to straddle the line emotionally anymore by being her friend all day long and falling asleep next to her and wanting her but knowing it would destroy me…. because I know she wants me for a minute and I want her for a lifetime. I can’t sell myself short. Feeling good in the moment just isn’t worth it to me.

I can’t control how she feels, I can’t even do anything about it, but what I CAN do is concentrate on the things I loved about Dana before I fell in love with her, and to not spend so much time with her that those in love feelings don’t have time to go away. I also want to be able to come and visit the 60-in TV. Let’s not get stupid.

And, okay, I was joking in the paragraph above, but here’s the real reason I need Dana now more than ever. My relationship with Argo requires confidentiality, and I acknowledge it wholeheartedly. Dana is the only one that’s been cleared for me to be able to share thoughts and feelings I have about what’s going on in both of our lives. It does not work for me to be married to Dana, but at the same time, I have to have a place to be able to triangulate, on purpose, because I’m a verbal processor and sometimes I need to talk something out with someone else before I write to Argo. I mean, I say plenty about our lives on this web site, and I will continue to in the way that all friends talk about each other. But just like everyone else in my life, you will never see every side to every story. You get to see the first maybe fifty layers when there are closer to fifty thousand. As I told Argo, “can’t you see that my mind works on an x,y, and z axis? It looks like Minority Report in there….”

I hate that love feelings for both Dana AND Argo have to be on the z-axis. It’s not that they’re not there. It’s that I have to pull them further away from me and take them out and look at them. If Dana doesn’t completely understand my relationship with Argo, how could I EVER expect someone new to be able to jump in without knowing what to say? “This is Argo. She metaphysically drinks at my house every Friday.” I have this image of Aaron and Argo in my head that I cannot get out because it is so stinkin’ adorable.

I call Argo “The Doctor” for multiple reasons, mostly having to do with the fact that none of my other friends have ever met her. The picture I have is of Aaron with Rory’s look of absolute disbelief that The Doctor is a real person. It reminds me of when I used to have a crush on Allison Frost, one of the on-air personalities at Oregon Public Broadcasting. We went out on one or two dates, and then she didn’t call me again because I think she met someone else that she liked better- her loss- but after those two dates I started jokingly calling her “my corporeally-challenged celebrity girlfriend on the radio.” Every time she was on the air, either I said that to Dana or she said it to me.

It’s the same deal for me with Argo. I know how her mind works, occasionally, but I don’t know much about her life before she met me… only that she is fabulous and her parents must have done something right, because damn. I also know that she did something right, because damn. Her kids are fabulous, too. The last thing I know is that I did something right by giving her my heart, because she’s been so careful with it. I didn’t get the relationship I thought I was going to get, but the one I got is even stronger. Why would Argo and I ever have to separate if we weren’t romantically involved in the first place? Hoes before hoes, in my case. 🙂 Over time, she’s become the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with, taking girlfriends “home to meet Mom” and eating a fuck ton of ice cream together when it doesn’t work out. As I have told her, “I cannot say that I am ‘over you,’ but I can say that I am ready to stop thinking about it. I cannot apologize for what was done to me to make me capable of what I did to you, but I *can* apologize for not going to the doctor sooner and the effects of my illness ON you.” Because of my history, wanting someone’s body when they open up to me is just par for the course. I’ve had to work on this with every relationship I’ve ever been in, save the one with Aaron. We didn’t click in a crush sort of way. We clicked in a “lesbro” sort of way immediately, even though he knew I was bi from the beginning.

It feels good to have progress in this area of my life. I decided that Argo was going to be the last one. The last friendship in which I would ever struggle with eros, because I’d hurt her so much that I began to see it as the damage I can inflict when I am focused on it. By the same token, I also remember her telling me on the first day that she liked to rap to Eminem. I said, “explain to me exactly how I’m not going to fall in love with you. USE BIG WORDS.”

This whole triangle with Dana and Argo has been a lesson in love for me. I had to learn how to bend and sway like a tree caught in warm summer breezes, because the more I tried to control what happened between the three of us, the more difficult life got.

The more I laid on the ground and watched the clouds roll by, I began to see how nice it was to go camping in my mind’s eye, letting the peace all around me calm my need to control everything. It’s the main reason I am so spiritual and religious. It gets my enormous ego out of the way so that I can see I am not the be all and end all.

God tells me this in a very loud voice, because when I am camping, I am still enough to hear it.

I used to only do recommendations on Wednesdays, but I’ve had some pretty spectacular stuff lately, so I have to share.

Mountain Dew Kickstarter

Only 80 calories for a tallboy, and it’s orange juice mixed with Mountain Dew. You cannot go wrong here. It’s what Mountain Dew LiveWire would be if it were good. Plus, it’s got a little more caffeine than regular soda, so if you are known for mainlining soda to keep awake, this is a good one. Things like this are invaluable for me, because most of the time, I do not slam caffeine. I just keep the bus from going under 50.

Gansito

It’s a Mexican pastry by a company called Marinela. Think Twinkie dipped in chocolate with both creme and strawberries in the middle. I could seriously say goodbye to every Twinkie on the planet but they would have to pry Gansito from my cold dead hands.

Pepino Limon Gatorade

Even my three-year-old friend likes it. Beat that with a stick. BTW, Pepino is Spanish for cucumber. Just thought I’d warn you up front. I told Josie that it was cucumber, and she said, “but CUCUMBERS ARE SWEET!” I let her taste it, and I was SHOCKED.

St. Arnold’s Root Beer

I haven’t had a St. Arnold’s root beer for like, 20 years, but I was in the store looking for something to share with Aaron and it jumped out at me. My everyday favorite root beer is Diet Barq’s, but there is nothing like hand-crafted, with a foamy head so you get a mustache. I have really bad acid reflux, so I don’t drink alcohol much at all but I still want to feel festive, damnit! This fits the bill better than anything, because even beer lovers will go, “SHIT! You have St. ARNOLD’S???? WHERE?” It’s my neighbor Robert’s favorite treat, too. He buys a six pack and hides them all over the house so he doesn’t drink them all at once. He just finds them. This actually isn’t a bad plan………….

Morning Joe

A few years ago, Starbucks took a page from Ben & Jerry and named a coffee after Joe Scarborough, the morning commentator on MSNBC. I enjoy Joe (as much as I can given our politics, anyway), so I bought a bag. Holy Jebus is it good. They discontinued it and I have been mourning ever since. Cut to Saturday, where I was shopping in Foodarama of all places, and they had it. I only bought one bag, but if money had been no object I would have cleaned them out. It’s the kind of coffee I like- strong so it doesn’t need anything. It is perfect as is.

The Redeye at Starbucks

The redeye is really simple. Just coffee with an extra shot of espresso. I’m putting it here because it’s an off-menu, and all coffee places call it something different. In Portland, it’s a shot in the dark or a wizard jump. I enjoy it so much that I do not get anything else at Starbucks, which works in my favor because I am a very cheap date. In the morning, all I want is coffee. In the afternoon, I do not switch orders. I still just want some coffee, and no, I don’t want any whip on it. Plus, I hate Pike’s Place. I hate it so much. It is McDonald’s level and you’re paying what seems like eight dollars for it. The espresso fixes the taste a little……. Saying this because Howard in all of his infinite wisdom has decided we’re not allowed to have bold pick after noon. Yes, I know you can get a pour-over. I don’t want to wait and it’s not as strong.

Letting Someone Else Drive

Baby, what do you want to listen to? I don’t even care because I am playing Candy Crush Soda Saga….. all the way there.

Once Argo and I were in a fight and she said that I felt I had the right to say anything I wanted in the way that I wanted and other people had that same right. It was such a great line that it has stayed in my mind and I have plagiarized it over and over (thanks, schweetha’at). She’s right. People DO have the right to say whatever they want, and I was being a jerk by stopping her and trying to head her off at the pass. The take home message was that I needed to be a better listener and stop talking. In a lot of ways, I have.

I went after a bigot (Wayne LaPierre) on Facebook today, and someone chewed me out over it. Here’s the Facebook post, and the comments (because I don’t know this guy…. not my friend…. all my shit is public, etc.).

Let me translate for you. “I don’t like ni**ers in the White House, but this is the only political way I know how to say it. I am not educated enough to know what I am talking about, but even though I have run out of things to say, I have not stopped talking.” We need to get these people out of politics. Their time is so over. “Demographically symbolic?” Eat a dick.

Here’s the comment where I got upset:

I don’t think the additional commentary is needed. The man’s stand on their own. He feels Obama only got elected for symbolic reasons and that is the reason some voted for him but some people also were mad at Republicans and wanted a change and some just liked him regardless of his race which is actually mixed anyway. It was not an appropriate statement to make but your added “translation” is also not needed. People are smart enough to “read between the lines.”

I’m sure they are, but here’s my reply to that one after sending him a quick comment saying he had the right to think whatever he wanted:

I thought more about your comment, Steve, and the fact that you explained to me why my opinion was wrong is part of the problem. I have the right to say whatever I want, and so do you. The fact that you need to mansplain why I was wrong says so much more about you than it does about me.

And in closing, my final quote on that thread:

There are just things I will no longer tolerate, like Meryl Streep. I will not tolerate my leaders seeing color. I will not tolerate my leaders seeing gender or sexual orientation. I will not tolerate our leaders thinking one American life is worth more than another.

As you well know, I like a black girl. I constantly feel a loss as to how to react to her because I don’t want to be wrong. I want to hold her while she cries about innocent people being gunned down by the police for no evident reason. I want to be her ally, and I don’t even know where to start. Maybe that is the purpose of interracial relationships in the first place. You don’t see inequality until you live it. Sexual orientation is one thing. If I am in danger, I know not to say anything and I use the pronoun game LIKE A BOSS. But there’s no hiding black and white. All I can do is pray that I start to see evidence of white privilege and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

Because I have the right to say whatever I want, as long as I’m also willing to listen. You cannot imagine how much painstaking patience this takes for me, as I am so good with patience to begin with (that was a lie…. I repent).

Thanks again, Argo. I am so much smarter when I can just rip you off verbatim. The tip is in the mail.

I was married to Dana for seven years and change. I was married to Kathleen for 11 months. During both of those divorces, I learned things that you just don’t learn without going through it. When Kathleen left me, I was a grand total of 24 years old. Now I’m almost 38. My perspective is quite a bit different now than it was then. I wish I could say that the same principles apply, but they do not. Age is everything when it comes to all-out change.

1. In the South, they sell you this line of crap that some man is going to show up and complete your whole life, and he is going to be your one true love. Southern lesbians are not immune to this fairy tale, so when I got divorced the first time around, I thought there would never be anybody else for me…. ever. At 38, I know that there are lots of people out there that would gladly have me as a significant other. It’s only a matter of finding them and not scaring them off within a few months. I am deep and intense, and then you pull back a layer and I am deeper and more intense. Women LOVE me until they find out I’m exhausting. And that’s something you only learn with age….. pretty sure I have given Dana, Argo, and Aaron their share of grey hairs as well.
2. I am quieter than I’ve ever been. I don’t generally leave my house. When Argo asked if she needed a restraining order, I laughed to myself and thought, “she is greatly overestimating my desire to drive to the airport. Has she BEEN to Bush lately?” For those of you thinking that I could just drive, you really haven’t been paying attention. I tend to like being alone with my thoughts, because I have so many of them that people get tired of the sound of my voice. I, however, do not. I think I’m a riot. Divorce is a chance for me to spend time with me, and I have turned out to like me a lot. Who cares if other people don’t? My happiness radiates from within, not without. Divorcing at 38 doesn’t make me feel incomplete, as in “I must have a partner to survive!”
3. Her crap is always going to be at your house. She doesn’t want it back. She will NEVER come and get it, ok? Stop trying.
4. The more you get to know yourself, the more you’ll like being divorced. Divorce means never having to compromise on anything, and it needs to be that way for a while. Marriage is hard, hard work. Take a break. Have a Coke and a smile.
5. The more you can let go of the relationship with the ex, the more problems you will find with it, because you do not have on the rose-colored glasses of romance anymore. For instance, Dana was telling me to pick up the kitchen or something like that and I was like, “whoa. Boundary. You do not get to tell me how to run my kitchen.” Had it been any other room in the house, I wouldn’t have cared. Horn in on my kitchen, and I will end you…. or at least, you might wish I had. It’s my KITCHEN. My lifeblood. See? Not having to compromise is a beautiful thing.
6. Divorce is a chance to pick back up with all those friends you dumped while you were cocooning. Case in point: I got to go back to Argo and tell her that I was sorry I dumped a bale of hay on her. She joked back. I am not hoping that we will ever be as close, but it feels good after pushing her away b/c I was worried about my relationship with Dana to think that she’s not leaving. If I can relax, she can, and it feels good to have someone with history with both of us to be able to understand at least half of the 85 sides to the story…. and that’s not even recent. That’s been her day in and day out dedication to letters and smiles over the past two years, not the past two days. Also, Aaron has walked with me EVERY DAY during this process, and I couldn’t have gotten through it without him. He holds me when I cry, and that is worth more to me than gold. He is the big brother I never had, even though he’s younger. I just call him my big brother because he, like everyone else, is taller than me. If there’s anything positive about this divorce, even though I have to reduce Dana’s place at the table, she’s still there…. and so are Argo and Aaron, even when I’ve been a complete tool to all of them. It’s like they all understand this whole long-term friendship thing a hell of a lot better than I do.
7. The difference between being 24 and 37 is that with your friends, recovery time is a lot faster. You’ve walked this path before, and it is familiar. Maybe it shouldn’t be, but marriages only work out half the time. Why should gay people have any better luck than straights?
8. At 37, I do not feel pressure to get remarried in the slightest. You will not meet me in a gay bar (I don’t THINK), nor will you meet me at speed dating or singles night. I am far more likely to date the pizza girl, because she has three things going for her: 1) Right off the bat, I know she is employed. 2) I also know that she drives. 3.) She already knows where I live. If that fails, I picture myself running into a woman accidentally… it wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did. I would rather have happily ever after in a serendipitous way than to go out looking for it. I’m old. I can stand on my own two feet. That only comes with age, too.
9. Alternatively, dating is a lot more fun and realistic. We know we’re too old to be fresh. We know we have our own quirks. The best we can do is hope they line up.
10. I have also found that being single is the best way for me to work on religion and spirituality. I can lock myself in my office for HOURS, which to me is the equivalent of workaholic. That does not go over well in marriage; I know I certainly hated those tendencies in Dana, but I hated them less when I was just as consumed as she was because I could understand it differently. If I’m writing a post, you just have to wait. Period.
11. When I go out, I do not have to communicate with anyone else. Coordinating schedules is hard for me. I’m terrible with time and I tend to get lost in the moment……….. and I want it that way. I’m probably walking and thinking (I do my best thinking while mobile). I don’t want to talk to you. I really don’t.
12. I am a writer, which presents challenges in a relationship.  I want to be in the middle of the action so I can write about it later. This has led me to do some pretty brave and stupid things, but I am a better writer because of it. I became a better writer by “staking out,” hiding back, and just observing what’s in front of me. Having a partner with me interrupts my flow… yet another thing I would have not known without spending time single.
13. Who says you have to have a date other people to begin dating? Why not date yourself? Why do you have to have an invitation to do things? I don’t. If I want to go to the beach, I just go. I walk and talk to myself and create inner worlds that may or may not collide with reality. I can’t do that in front of other people…. even with Argo, it was only in black and white, letters sent through the air that taught me as much about myself as I hope it taught her… for better or for worse. However, I never would have gotten to where I am now without inviting myself into my own silence, and not waiting for Dana or my friends to dictate what that looks like for me.
14. I will close with a Tony Robbins quote- “you learn more when you’re pondering, not when you’re partying.” Never has this been more true for me than right now.

So, evangelicals. Does this sound like “gay” divorce to you? Maybe we should just call it what it is…. divorce. No pretenses. It sucks all the way around…………..

if you let it.

I have realized that in the entire time I have been preaching to you from this web site, we’ve never prayed the pastoral prayer that I pray in church right before I get up to speak.

Creator God,

Take our minds and think with them, take my lips and speak with them, take our hearts and set them on fire for You. And if I can’t reach reach these people with my words, push me out of the way and speak it in spite of me.

Amen

I prayed the pastoral prayer with you because it is entirely at issue in the Gospel today. John chooses to focus on Thomas, the twin, because he is the one that has trouble pushing himself out of the way and believing despite his unbelief (Lord, I believe… help my unbelief. -Mark 9:24). However, Thomas does not start out that way. When the heat started to mount, the all the disciples wanted to get the hell out of Dodge (and by that I mean Judea) immediately. Thomas becomes the rat dog with the big ego in the situation (my personal favorite) and says confidently, “which way did they go? Let’s kill ’em all. No room for error, baby.” Whether he actually meant his zeal (and I am just paraphrasing here) is up for debate. When I think of my friends being in danger, the first thing I want to do is run toward it. I have had many soldier friends over my lifetime that if they’d called me from Afghanistan or Iraq and said it was bad they would have had trouble convincing me to stay stateside. I am not trained to do a damn thing, I am 120 pounds soaking wet, but I guess if someone’s knees being bitten counts as “fighting the good fight,” then I’m all in.

And here we find Thomas, ready to step up for Jesus (Onward Christian solllllldiers…..). As I watch the scene in my mind, I can only see me. I can only see the “lead the charge into hell” that Thomas wants, because he’s the mechanic. It’s black or it’s white. They’re destroyed or they’re not. It is as if Thomas isn’t even listening to Jesus, and taking off in a direction completely counter to what Jesus intended. I mean, we’re still on soft power, right? Does this look like soft power to you?

I don’t know about you, but I get to that place A LOT. As an empath, I can feel pain from miles away and I just want to DO SOMETHING, but that is not what my friends would even expect or encourage. It is because of this that I choose to believe Thomas wasn’t being serious. He was offering Jesus what he had- himself. He didn’t have money. He didn’t really have prestige (a follower of Jesus, but not yet a popular preacher in his own right). He didn’t really have anything except a thirst for serving in a way that was concrete…. because that’s what mechanics do.

Jesus is off in his own little world, but not intentionally. He is preparing for who he needs to be and the direction he needs to take. Thomas is the kind of nerd that takes care of the books. I am not saying he actually kept the books for Jesus’ ministry, only that his personality type would have fit in well there…. Ditto for system administration. But you notice, that doesn’t affect his faith in Jesus or his preaching ability. Let’s stop for a moment and address how hard it is for a pragmatic follower to believe in anything, much less a new church that was just taking off with a leader that was kind of known as a nutbag around town.

So you can see his personality straight out… surprising.

Are there times when you get to that place? Does your belief in the concrete system of government and religion stop you from seeing the mysticism that pervades our understanding of each other? As I have said many times, the reflection on the divine is more important than the divine itself. It does not change God to be worshiped and glorified, but it WILL change you.

Perhaps that is where Thomas’ mind resides as he says these words in John 14:5: Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way? Thomas is looking for a concrete answer that doesn’t exist. How do you translate heaven and earth to someone who knows it conceptually but has no intellectual understanding of it? Jesus certainly couldn’t. That’s because there is no intellectual understanding of heaven. It is my guess that as an INFJ, the best Jesus could do with Thomas is to let him do what he needed to do. Jesus wanted Thomas as a follower, but at the same time, I think they would have had a contemptuous relationship (eisegesis: engaged). As I have said before, Jesus and I are the same personality type…… and when I think clearly, the people in my life that I have struggled with the most are the people who cannot live in the abstract. Ever. It’s just not done. I can imagine Jesus’ frustration as he is trying to tell them what he knows, and if you’re hearing it for the first time and you have a pocket protector and a shirt that looks like graph paper, of course you want to touch Jesus’ wounds. You want to examine every inch. You want to comb him like Trapper John and Hawkeye before they hit the still.

Again, if you’re looking for the heart of Jesus, you’ve found him. Jesus doesn’t chastise Thomas for his unbelief. To the contrary, it’s kind of like his attitude is “okay, Thomas…. do what you gotta do.” In my head, it’s like he’s playing operation and I’m waiting for Jesus’ nose to light up (you’re welcome). When Thomas is satisfied, he goes on to tour India, preaching the Gospel, and is now its patron saint.

It has been said that every good sermon starts in Jerusalem and ends in New York, or vice versa. It was Harry Emerson Fosdick, pastor at Riverside Church, who said this the first time… and if it’s true, we have landed at La Guardia.

When are we so hell-bent on seeing details that we miss what’s right in front of us? When does our “mechanic” personality take over so that emotion drains and the autonomic system that gets us up and makes our lunches and cleans the house and sets the timer for the coffee the next morning takes over and we just walk, busily along, until the thought of spiritual enlightenment is for other people. We walk away in the interest of Same. it’s not what we want, but it is what we do. It is not reaching for our better angels, but letting them sit where they are.

If you are in this place, hear the first letter of John to Ephesus. The setup is that there are “antichrists” preaching a version of Christianity where Jesus did not bodily resurrect, but metaphysically. John is trying like hell to keep his church together, and is afraid of the possible fracture:

We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life– this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us– we declare to you what we have seen and heard so that you also may have fellowship with us; and truly our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ. We are writing these things so that our joy may be complete.

He is begging to be heard by other factions in Judaism. YOU CAN STOP LOOKING NOW. WE FOUND HIM. I choose to believe that is because John, as a Gnostic, could not see God. He could feel God, empathy from miles away (or at least, miles UP). He wasn’t preaching to mechanics, either.

John has the ability to touch the hem of Jesus’ garment in his mind’s eye and be healed. It does not take John facts to believe that if you get your ego out of the way and trust in a divine thread that networks us all, you will reap its benefits. He believes that the way to do this is to believe that Jesus is the Christ, and his words will absolutely enrich your life if you take them seriously.

But what about the mechanics? Where do they fit if God is all this touchy-feely stuff? According to John, touch Jesus all you want. Put your finger in the hole in his side- honey badger don’t care. If that’s what you need to believe, I’m all for it. The Dude abides. Eventually, though. There’s a leap. New shit comes to light, and Thomas jumps up in recognition.

The mechanic made good when he stopped looking with his eyes, and in effect, that is what we are asked to do. We are called to carry on Christ’s messages of love, forgiveness, and breathing through that whole retribution thing. We are called to live those messages because Jesus has blessed those who don’t believe as well (Jesus said to him (Thomas), Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.).

My guess is that Jesus wants to offer an invitation, and see who shows up.

Are you in? Bring Jell-o.

Today has just been red letter. I haven’t done anything special. I just feel good, for possibly the first time in days. Pain is manageable with Aleve and Tylenol (even without rheumatoid I hurt from being a computer geek). Dana apologized for leading me on, and I was surprisingly okay with it. Although before she left last night, I broke down in front of her and said, “I’m not sure my dream will happen without you.” She assured me that it would, but I’m losing a partner in ministry and that is not a small deal to me. However, at the same time, being a member of Dana’s family has sucked for so long that I’m done. It has always been the one of me against the three of them, and calling them out on their family dysfunction did NOT go well for me. I would say that Dana is glad that she and her parents are closer now, and I’m sorry it took me going thermonuclear for her to get it, but her parents will NEVER see that our fight led to something good. I will always be an intruder, and to be let go from that hook is glorious. I told one of my friends that I’d have to win a Pullitzer before they were happy. She said they’d find something wrong with that, too.

I agree, and that’s all that needs to be said about that, because I am happy today and I am not going to ruin that for myself by thinking about relationships that are ending. I’d rather think about relationships that are beginning. Auna has been in Austin all week training for her job at UT (admissions counselor at the Houston office), and we haven’t seen each other in at least a couple of weeks. I’m really looking forward to actually getting to know each other on the ground, because we chat a lot, but it’s different when she’s in front of me (of course). As I have said before, she sings around the house and it makes me blush with joy, because when I was a kid, Diane told me that one of her good memories of Jeri was sitting in a field, singing to her. I thought to myself that the only thing I wanted was for someone to sing to me, too.

When I got the Pie Jesu solo at Bridgeport, I finally knew that I was the one who was supposed to sing to someone else. Now it’s duet time. Because seriously. We both sing and we don’t sing together? That is on the redic and unacceptable. I honestly think that we have the capability to do things like “Take Me As I Am” from Rent, because that wouldn’t be stereotypical at all. Speaking of “Take Me,” OMG Lea Michele and Amber Riley. Do not even bother with the Broadway recording, because Lea and Amber connect like two wizarding wands.

But back to relationships.

I got to tease Argo today.

Progress.

I have shaken myself into my smallest place and trying to react with grace and peace. I knew I was flipping the fuck out in a way that I never have before, and I even thought that I might have a medical problem that was undiagnosed because surely I could go back to normal at some point, right?

I was sitting in the bathtub, staring at my hands, knowing I saw arthropathy and wondering what to do about it. I didn’t want to go to the doctor right away. I had to sit with it mentally. What if I have an autoimmune disease?

Fucking ironic, that’s what.

I need Auna, desperately, in a friend kind of way. If she kisses me, or vice versa, I think it would be the kiss of a lifetime, or at least Top 5. We’ve been flirting FOREVER, and when I called her out on her bullshit, she stopped doing it. She’s part of my heart, and she knows it. In fact, yesterday she told me, “you ought to write about your love for me some more.”

Greedy.

However, I love it. I just need Auna to be Auna in the world. Her smile lifts me up when I am weak, and I certainly am right now. I am waiting on bloods to come back for fucking rheumatoid arthritis, which I noticed myself and diagnosed myself and just tried to take in the enormity of the life change I would undergo. The little things she does in my life make a big difference. For instance, she sends me the sentences that stick with her on “Stories.” Getting an attaboy from Auna is my favorite thing. Her favorite line is one of mine, and I have been saying it for YEARS: “when you’re an interracial couple in Texas, no one will even notice you’re gay.” The thing that I love about Auna is that she takes my writing seriously. We have conversations about Stories/craft, and it feels so much better to have it recognized as real. Plenty of people have given me donations and kudos, but it feels different coming from someone who has become part of my extended family of friends.

That being said, I diagnosed myself and then it scared the shit out of me when I was right. It’s starting in my fingers. It may not be rheumatoid, but it is something. I also have sugar, protein, and blood in my urine.

I am telling you all this because maybe there’s a medical reason I’ve been such a tool lately. It doesn’t excuse my behavior, but I hope it sheds some context. I hope it also proves that I am a somewhat normal person having a normal reaction in context with what I’m dealing with. If it’s rheumatoid, I will have to have very expensive IV therapy. There’s all kinds of stuff that work for people so that they can function, but it’s still scary to have to go for infusions.

Maybe I am worrying for nothing, but I don’t think so. I’m just glad that I have a GREAT doctor- Jacob Harrison at Legacy Community Health Services on Mapleridge. I am putting his info here because I think he is one of the kindest and smartest people I’ve ever met. Please go and see him. He deserves to have a large practice and patients that make him laugh.

I do.

I took a personality test today, and for the very first time ever, I came up as INFP. I laughed so hard I farted. To me, this is like saying “you aren’t as much of an asshole today as you usually are” (P being “Perceiving” and J being “Judging……..”).

Progress.

Here’s the best conversation I’ve had in 20 years- with a friend I lovingly call “Handsome Johnny,” because that was his nickname at the pub where we worked in Portland. The setup is that he has been abundant with his compliments all along, and I needed to TELL him how much they meant. Here is what happened.

Leslie: I just wanted to express my deep gratitude for you. You make me believe in myself when I can’t.

Handsome Johnny: Well, you deserve good things. You’re awesome, and frankly, the most Christian Christian I’ve ever met. You actually mirror what the gospel said; love, tolerance, acceptance, forgiveness. All these things are so easily cast aside by people who claim to ascribe to these principals on a daily basis. It’s sad, really truly heartbreaking. I think the reason people are distancing themselves from the church is because there are too many Phelps and Robertsons and not enough Lanagans. But, despite my lack of faith, or perhaps because of it, I understand the absolute necessity of it in society. But ONLY when executed properly, as you do. It’s not about control, or hate, or doctrine. THAT is what people forget, I think. Or not, my finger is so off the pulse of society.

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I am human. I fall short of these ideals all the time, particularly when I am angry. But the reason I do this, the only reason, is that people can see me in real time. They can learn from my mistakes in real time. I am human enough to admit that I don’t know everything, that my ego is too big for my rat dog body, and I need help from other people to get along in society even though I try my dead level best to isolate so much you’ll forget I’m here.

But then there are these moments, like the one here, where I realize that being human and doing things wrong is just life. My story is no worse or no better than anyone else’s… the only thing that makes it distinct is that it’s mine.

And every time I get feedback, I realize that’s not even true. My words are mine alone to reflect upon and better myself, but they matter to other people. After it leaves my body, it becomes a slice of time that other people grab, because maybe that slice of time matches up with theirs.

We’re all on the journey. Thanks be to God for showing me through this web site how far I’ve come, and how far I still have to go.

And most of all, Fanagans, thank you for walking this path with me. Knowing that you listen MATTERS TO ME. I don’t feel alone, ever. You are the ones for whom I would gladly get a towel and some water to wash your feet, even though it’s kind of gross.